The Last Hour
by Layla Reyne
Summary: Prom, witchy shenanigans, a final showdown with Klaus and some angsty Delena romance. Will Elena make the same choice in her final hour when she's faced with the imminent extinction of her vampire bloodline? Completed, multi-chapter fic. UPDATED WITH AN EPILOGUE.
1. Plans

**The Last Hour**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**Notes:** Canon through 3X22; written pre-Season 4. No sire-bond. _And many thanks go to CreepingMuse for the invaluable beta support!_

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from The Vampire Diaries are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

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**_Chapter 1 - Plans_**

This plan is so convoluted, so absurd, so full of "could go wrong" avenues that it's like the Homecoming disaster times ten – strike that, times a thousand – because I have to trust too many unpredictable people and I have no contingency plan. None, nada, zip. This is all we've got. No other way. And hell, even if we succeed, it's only a fifty-fifty shot of survival. Yep, I'm pretty sure this one is going straight to the top of our list of epic plan failures.

Not my plan, though. Judgy hatched this one all on her own, and she came to me because I'm the only one crazy enough to listen. Klaus had delivered an ultimatum – return Elena to human form (aka his blood bag) before the next full moon or her loved ones would be back on the endangered species list. Bonnie correctly assumed that I'd do anything to kill Klaus, as his deadline was approaching faster than her ability to reverse Elena's vampirism. We needed another strategy, and Bonnie had proposed a spell that would theoretically sever Klaus from all of his vampire bloodlines, including ours, allowing us to kill Klaus without dooming the rest of us to the same fate. So here we are, on the eve of Klausageddon III. Or is it IV now? I can't remember, but fuck if anyone is counting anymore.

For the record, given the circumstances, I think this whole prom thing is tempting fate to the nth degree. These sorts of events never end well for us – Miss Mystic Falls, the Decade Dances, the Mikaelson cluster-fuck. But Elena, gaudy prom queen crown and all, is dancing to some dreadful pop song with Caroline, Bonnie and Matt, and her face is lit up with a smile the likes of which I haven't seen in weeks. Right now, she's just a high school senior having a good time with her friends and not a newborn vampire mired in one apocalypse after another. When she catches me smiling in appreciation, I try to cover it with a smirk and only succeed in making her laugh louder.

A second later my view is obstructed by a certain blond Original. "That little bitch stole my crown."

Now I'm the one laughing out loud. "You can't be serious. After a thousand years, you're really hung up on a silly piece of plastic?"

Rebekah looks toward the dance floor and, as I follow her gaze, I realize it's not the crown on Elena's head that's got her in a snit.

"Or," I begin, taking out my flask and pouring a shot in each of our glasses, "Are you mad because Matt's wearing a matching silly piece of plastic? The people have spoken, and they don't like you very much."

She shoots me a glare and swiftly drains her shot. "You're one to talk, Damon. Still pining for your brother's girl."

I glance back at the dance floor and grimace as Stefan pulls Elena into his arms. "Touché," I reply, knocking back my own shot and pouring another for each of us.

Elena stuck with her "choice," but the careful distance she's keeping between them now as they dance speaks volumes about the growing tension there. All the time I spent with her after she transitioned, teaching her how to control her bloodlust, to actually function as a vampire, probably didn't help matters. No way was I trusting that to Stefan. And besides, I'd made a promise to never leave her again. That one trumps any promise I made to my baby bro.

"For what its worth, I've officially switched teams," Rebekah says, interrupting my thoughts, and I notice that there's a devilish twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh yeah, why's that?" I know she's baiting me, but I'm glad for the temporary distraction.

She steps closer, grabbing my collar and leaning in to whisper in my ear, "You look better in _and out of_ a tux."

"Aww, Beks, getting sentimental on me," I tease, trailing my index finger down her cheek before stepping back.

She bats my hand away, pissed at being one-upped at her own game. "Well, it seemed appropriate, seeing as how you might not be around this time tomorrow."

"The spell will work," I tell her with more confidence than I actually have.

"So you say, but you're taking a huge risk, Damon. Your entire bloodline could die with my brother, including Elena." Her tone is casually indifferent, but I think I see real concern in her eyes.

"Klaus has to die. It's the only way. You backing out now?"

Rebekah shakes her head and reaches beneath the plunging neckline of her barely there dress, pulling out three small vials of blood. "Elijah and I have a lot to make up for," she answers, handing me the vials.

I do believe some tiny part of her is truly sorry for the chaos she set in motion and a tiny part of me commiserates with her – that part of me that does crazy and impulsive things when my non-existent feelings get the better of me. I'll never completely forgive her for what she did to Elena, but I get it.

"How'd you get Kol on board?" I ask, pocketing the three vials of blood.

"I took away his mirror."

"Harsh."

"I couldn't take another minute of his preening," she says, ironically enough, while checking her appearance in the shiny silver punch bowl.

"Oh, hello, Pot. Seen Kettle around these days?" I ask, sarcasm lacing my voice.

"Shut up, caveman," she pouts back at me. "One last dance?"

"Sorry, Blondie, that's reserved for someone else."

"Your loss," she replies, swallowing the last of her drink, setting her glass down and turning to leave. She looks back over her shoulder, blowing a kiss my way, and I know this girl has definitely watched one too many Marilyn Monroe flicks. "Life would suck without my snarky plaything," she adds, and I'm pretty sure she's referring to me. I hold my glass up to her in mock salute as I appreciate the backside walking away from me for possibly the last time.

"What was that about?"

_Shit, busted. _

I turn to find Elena standing directly behind me, cheeks puffed out angrily with her hands on her blue-silk-clad hips.

"Just Rebekah trying to jump my bones one last time. Jealous?" Taunting is probably not the best approach here but I can't stop myself.

Needless to say, Elena's holding a grudge. Of course Rebekah's been letting her inner "mean girl" out a lot lately too. The high school of it all makes me sick. How Stefan voluntarily subjects himself to this on a regular basis without ripping them all to shreds is beyond me.

I hold up my hands, showing her the vials of blood. "Relax. She was just bringing me these."

The high school senior instantly vanishes and is replaced with the anxious vampire apocalypse magnet. "So, we're all set then?" she asks, nervously reaching up to run her fingers through her hair, but then she's foiled by the hairpin-apalooza that Caroline's made of it. She settles for wringing her hands.

"All systems are a go."

And then it's all too much and her hands are plowing through her hair and down goes a bobby pin – or twelve – restless tick one, junior vampire beautician zero.

"Elena!" comes the shrill admonishment from the dance floor.

Elena looks up feebly at Caroline and mouths, "I'm sorry."

I grab her wrists before she can do anymore damage. "Let's go. You owe me a dance." As we pass Bonnie on the way to the dance floor, I discretely slip the vials of blood into her hand. She then heads for the exit, Stefan following closely on her heels.

"Relax, Elena. This will work." I give her hands, wrapped in mine and tucked between us, a reassuring squeeze.

"You really believe Bonnie's spell will sever the bloodline?"

"Of course," I lie in my calmest voice possible, rolling my eyes and shrugging as if its no big deal.

"You're lying," she counters, leveling me with a knowing glare. Naturally, she sees right through it, so I pull her closer before she sees her suspicions confirmed on my face.

"What other choice do we have, Elena?"

"There has to be another way," she answers, and this refrain is second only to "I care" on my least favorite phrases list. Nothing that comes after it ever ends well.

"Sorry Elena, all out of options, and if we don't kill Klaus now, we'll all be dead by the next full moon anyways."

"Damon –" she starts, but I cut her off by cupping her cheeks with my hands and forcing her to meet my eyes.

"Elena, do you trust me?"

"Yes," she replies, and I'm pleased there's not a second of hesitation.

"Do you trust Bonnie?"

"Yes."

Probably a bad idea on all our parts, but I'm putting that aside for now.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," I tell her, drawing her back into my arms and tucking her head beneath my chin. By the stiff set of her shoulders, I suspect that that phrase from me is near the top of _her_ least favorite phrases list. Nothing good ever comes after that one either.

"There are so many loose ends, Damon," she mumbles against my chest, and I know she's not just referring to the plan.

"Tomorrow, Elena. Tomorrow we start tying up those loose ends," I reply, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head. A blur at the opposite end of the gym catches my attention. "Stefan's back," I whisper, and we both take a few steps apart before he reaches us.

"Is everything set?"

"Bonnie and Jeremy are ready to go," he answers, tucking an instantly tense Elena into his side.

"It's showtime," I say, flaring my eyes wide and waggling my brows. "You two get going. I'll round up Vampire Barbie."

"Damon-" she calls out to me as I turn to go, and it sounds an awful lot like the time I called out her name on the breezeway of a dingy motel in Denver. I glance briefly at Stefan and wonder if he also hears what she's not saying. I suppose so if that new frown line on his forehead is any indication.

"Tomorrow," I reply, holding her gaze a moment longer before looking back to Stefan. "Let's do this."

He nods in agreement and then we're headed off in opposite directions, putting our dubious plan into action.

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	2. Roles

**The Last Hour**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**Notes:** Thank you readers for the reviews and all the story alerts. Your feedback and continued interest keep this going.

_Many thanks also to Rahveryn for always being a great sounding board and to CreepingMuse, without whose patience and honesty this chapter would have gone completely off the rails. Your assistance and guidance is so very much appreciated._

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from The Vampire Diaries are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

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**_Chapter 2 - Roles_**

Tomorrow. That's all I focus on as Stefan tugs me by the hand through town on our way to the cemetery. If I let myself think about tonight or the day after tomorrow, then the doubts swirling just beneath the surface – about this plan, about the lives we're putting in jeopardy, about certain choices I've made – will paralyze me. I can't afford that tonight, not if I'm going to pull this off. Tomorrow we will all be free of Klaus. Tomorrow we start tying up loose ends and moving forward with the rest of our lives.

When Stefan begins to slow I let the landscape around me come back into focus, and I recognize the cemetery gates in front of us. Noticing a faint light coming from the Salvatore crypt across the graveyard, I go to move in that direction, but Stefan's hand holds me in place. I turn back to him, seeing his beautiful features marred by that all too familiar tortured expression. It threatens to break my fragile resolve, so I look away, bowing my head and closing my eyes before they can fill with tears.

"You don't have to do this, Elena," he says softly. "There's still time to change your mind." He's trying to be the voice of reason, making sure I've considered all our options; but Damon was right, there is no other way. We're past the point of no return.

"No there's not, Stefan," I reply, my voice thick with the emotions I'm trying to hold in check. "The full moon is two days away, and I can't risk Klaus hurting anyone else that I love."

"We'll run. Rose and Katherine evaded Klaus for five hundred years. I can keep us safe."

"But it's not just us, Stefan," I snap, anxiety and desperation finally getting the better of me. "It's Bonnie and Matt, Jeremy and Caroline, Meredith and Damon. Klaus will pick them off one by one until he gets what he wants." No matter how terrified I am right now, the guilt of not doing something – anything – to get us all out of this mess would crush me.

"There has to be another way," he pleads.

I can't help the bitter laugh that falls from my lips. Not an hour ago I uttered those same words to Damon, and now I'm the one on the defensive. "Stefan, we need to kill Klaus."

An answering grimace flits across his face before he drops my hand. "I know that. I just wish you didn't have to be in the middle of it," he says, unable to hide the resignation in his voice.

"We had to be sure he'd come," I remind him. He nods in acknowledgment, and I resume walking to the crypt with Stefan following a few steps behind me. As we approach, I see my double sitting on the stone steps, her arms dangling casually over her crossed legs and looking too pleased with herself given the circumstances.

"Did he buy it?" I ask.

"Hook, line and sinker," Katherine answers, tucking her phone in her pocket. "I gave him the whole sob story of how I couldn't _bear_ to compete with you for Stefan's affections for all of eternity and told him that I had my own witch who could make you human again."

"And where is Lucy?" Stefan asks curtly.

"Inside with Bonnie," Katherine replies, gesturing over her shoulder. "Yammering over the Holy Grail full of vampire blood. Did you bring the rest?"

Stefan pulls three vials of blood out of his pocket. "Mine, Damon's and Caroline's. You already added yours?"

"Just made my donation," Katherine says, holding up her arm to display a faint bite mark on her wrist. "Go on in. They're waiting for you," she tells Stefan.

Stefan's eyes meet mine, and though he doesn't say a word, I know he's giving me one last out. I shake my head solemnly and look away, fighting back another wave of tears and doubt. I will not let myself fall apart in front of _her_.

When I hear the metal gate clang shut, I open my eyes again and find Katherine circling me, her head titled in contemplation. "Why are you helping us?" I ask, wondering if she's sizing me up as her competition or her prey. "Some part of that sob story must have been true for Klaus to be convinced."

"I see your ego's been amplified along with the waterworks," she retorts caustically.

"Not an answer, Katherine," I counter.

"It's like Stefan said. I've been running for five hundred years."

"So you were listening."

"Of course. Kind of hurt I wasn't included in your list of loved ones," she pouts, and I roll my eyes.

"I'm tired of looking over my shoulder, for myself and for them," Katherine continues, and I'm surprised by her choice of words - _them_ and not _him_. "Think what you will of me, Elena, but I loved them both. I want us out of Klaus' crosshairs for good." Katherine has always made her feelings for Stefan perfectly clear, but her intentions as to Damon are decidedly more grey and exponentially more destructive. "And that's the truth that Klaus bought. The lie was that I'm worried about competing with you anymore," she finishes, approaching me.

"Why's that?" I ask defiantly, standing my ground.

"Because I've been watching, observing. After five hundred years, its what I do best," she answers, slyly smirking as she leans in to whisper to me. "And if I'm reading things correctly, I'll have Stefan all to myself when this is over."

I recoil, and I'm certain she sees the simultaneous flash of hope and guilt in my eyes – an involuntary confirmation of her assertion – before I have the chance to avert my gaze.

"Yep, that's what I thought," she says, her smirk growing into an amused, self-satisfied grin. She steps back and leans against the pillar of the crypt with her arms folded over her chest. "Tomorrow can't come soon enough."

"Let's go over the plan one more time," I start, changing the subject.

"Mhmm," she mumbles, tapping her stiletto against the stone step, deciding whether to let me off the hook or not. "Fine," she says, and I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Klaus arrives. Lucy brings him the cup, tells him that, as our sire, he has to add his blood. You drink the blood, he drinks from you, and then, thinking you'll wake up a human again, he snaps your neck. Bonnie and Lucy take him down."

Every detail is correct, but I still shiver involuntarily at the memory of the last time I sacrificed myself on the alter of Klaus.

"Are you sure you can do this?" she asks, and she's circling me again, assessing whether or not I have the resolve to carry out this ruse.

"It's just a temporary funeral," I answer, but my voice comes out with far less conviction than I'd intended.

"Typically, yes, but one, you have to trust that the rest of us will play our parts while you're out, and two, if the severing spell doesn't work, every second you're out is one less second of your last hour. Precious little time to waste."

"Stop taunting her, Katherine," Stefan interrupts crossly as he re-emerges from the crypt. "She'll only be out a few minutes."

"Easy, Stefan" she replies, holding up her hands. "Just making sure our girl can go through with this."

"I'll do whatever it takes," I tell her, resolved and confident this time, stepping into her personal space, face to face.

Before she can respond, there's a rustling in the woods off to our right, and we all three turn our heads to listen. A second later Katherine's head whips back around and our eyes meet. "He's here," she whispers urgently.

"Whatever it takes," I repeat, nodding and grimacing at what I know comes next.

Klaus has to be completely convinced that Katherine took me against my will – that she's not in on our plan. It'll hurt like hell and leave me weak and at his mercy, but this is my part to play. Klaus has to believe, and I have to believe my co-conspirators can play their parts as well.

"On with the show," I direct, and Katherine pounces at me, fully vamped out, and drives a stake into my gut.

"What are you doing?" Stefan screams at her, pushing her aside and standing defensively between us. I pull the stake out and collapse onto my hands and knees behind him, coughing and willing myself not to black out from the searing pain. She missed any vital organs, but I was right – it hurts like hell – and I think maybe Katherine is enjoying herself a little too much.

"Just making sure we get our happy ending, Stefan," she answers loudly.

"Oh sweetheart," comes the vile British accent from behind us, "Let's be honest. I'm the only one here getting a happy ending tonight."

I look up and see Klaus a few feet in front of us, holding Jeremy by the neck, and I'm filled with dread. That was definitely not part of the plan.

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_**I hope you continue to enjoy the ride and that you'll take a few minutes to review and let me know what you think so far.**_


	3. Ruse

**The Last Hour**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**Notes:** Thanks again to CreepingMuse for the beta support and to you, my generous readers, for the continued story alerts, messages and reviews. Please keep them coming!

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from The Vampire Diaries are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

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**_Chapter 3 - Ruse_**

Note to self: Never volunteer for Vampire Barbie duty again. Yeah, yeah, I know. I've made that note to myself several times before but this time I _really_ mean it.

"Let's go over the plan one more time," Caroline says, as we pull into the cemetery parking lot.

"Good God, woman! We've been over it ten times already."

"Again," she snaps.

"Fine, abridged version. Katherine lures Klaus to the crypt. The Judgy Cousins cook up the vampire stew. Add a dash of Klaus, Elena takes a taste, and then Klaus has to drink from Elena before he breaks her neck to complete the spell. Bonnie and Lucy will witchy migraine him, you and Stefan keep him down and I stab him with Ric's uber-stake. And then poof, the devil's finally dead."

"And you really think this severing spell will work?"

"Best shot we've got, Blondie. Now hand me the stake," I tell her, pointing to the glove box in front of the passenger seat.

"Seriously?" she exclaims. "That's where it's been this entire time – in your freaking car!"

"Better there than the fireplace." I take the stake from her, tucking it into my jacket as I get out of the car.

"This car is so old it doesn't even have a security system," she continues shrilly, slamming the passenger door shut. "Anyone could have gotten in there and stolen it."

"I've had this car for forty-plus years, and it's never once let me down, which is more than I can say for most of you."

"Damon, that's not - "

Her words are cut off by the blood curdling cry of "Jeremy, no!" from across the graveyard. Some part of the plan has clearly gone awry. Caroline and I stand frozen for a moment, looking at each other with alarm, and then we're sprinting toward the family crypt. Just before we get there I grab Caroline by the arm and pull her behind a gravestone. We need to assess the situation before making a move.

"Now is that any way to treat the sire of your sister's bloodline?" Klaus taunts, kneeling over Jeremy with two daggers in his hand.

Jeremy spits in his face – once a punk, always a punk – and what's it get him? A dagger in each arm as Klaus pins him to the ground. Jeremy screams, writhing in pain, and Elena lets out another cry as she struggles to stand. Seeing the bloodstain at her midsection, my eyes shift over to Katherine, who is holding Stefan by the throat against one of the crypt pillars. Bonnie is lying unconscious nearby, probably knocked out while trying to protect Jeremy. So much for the witchy migraine part of the plan, because Lucy is nowhere near powerful enough to bring down Klaus on her own.

"Just leave him out of this, Klaus," Elena begs. "Why do you need him anyway? Katherine told me about the spell. I'll do it. Just let him go, please."

"I don't think so, sweetheart. I believe you're well acquainted with the concept of leverage. As long as I have your brother, you and Stefan over there will do exactly what I say. And without this little trinket," Klaus says, pulling the Gilbert ring off of Jeremy's finger and tossing it aside, "he's completely at my mercy."

"What are we going to do?" Caroline whispers urgently at my side.

"Fuck if I know."

Yep, as predicted, this mess is quickly climbing to the top of our failures list. Jeremy was supposed to help Bonnie and Lucy set up and then lay low until Caroline and I got here. Apparently, I need to compel him to play hide and seek better too. We were going to use the daggers to temporarily immobilize Klaus, making sure I had a clear shot at his heart with the stake, but instead, Jeremy's letting out another howl as Klaus twists them further into his arms.

"Give me the stake," Caroline demands suddenly.

"What? No way in hell," I respond, shaking my head.

"Klaus is obsessed with me, remember. I'm the only one who can get close enough now."

She's staring me down with that determined, don't you dare argue with me, bitchy look she's perfected in her seventeen years of existence. I'll never tell her this, but she might be the scariest vampire of us all.

"Let me get this straight. You're offering to be Klaus bait?"

She nods, holding her hand out. "You propose a trade," she explains, taking the stake and tucking it behind her back. "Me for Jeremy. I'll tell him I'll go willingly – to keep Elena safe and to be with him."

"Are you sure you can do this?" Sure, she's proven herself a formidable vamp since her transition, but this is the last chance we have at Klaus. There is absolutely no room for error.

"I have to. He's got Elena _and_ Jeremy."

"But still-"

"Damon, he killed Tyler." Her voice breaks a little on the name of her dearly departed, and I get it. She wants to protect her friends, but, more than that, she wants vengeance. She needs to deliver the final blow, and I can't blame her for that.

"And besides," she starts again, steeling herself, "I wasn't the lead in all those school plays for nothing."

"You have to wait to stake him until after he drinks from Elena and breaks her neck," I remind her.

"I didn't ask you to go over the plan eleven times for nothing," she huffs, rolling her eyes. "I got it."

"All right, Miss Scarlett, let's do this," I smirk, grabbing her by the arm and moving out from behind the gravestone.

"Late to the party, as usual," Klaus sneers as we approach, not bothering to look up as he drips his blood into the goblet that Lucy's brought from the crypt. I take the opportunity to swipe the Gilbert ring he tossed aside.

"But I brought you a gift this time," I reply sarcastically, jerking Caroline forward. Finally glancing our way, Klaus' eyes widen in surprise. "A trade, more precisely. Your black heart's desire for Jeremy."

"Damon, what are you doing?" Elena wails from her position over Jeremy's body.

"Saving your brother, for a change." I meet her eyes for the first time, and I can see the anxiety-stricken apocalypse magnet is back in full force and effect. With our eyes still locked, I give her a slight nod, trying to let her know we've got this under control, relatively.

"Caroline, what is this?" Klaus asks.

"Like Damon said, a trade." She wrenches her arm free and walks toward him. "You let Jeremy go, and I'll leave with you. I want to see Rome and Paris and all the places you promised to take me. I want to see them with you, but you have to let Jeremy go first."

"But you swore you'd never forgive me for killing Tyler."

"Never is a long time for a vampire," Caroline replies, standing right in front of him. He brings his hand to her cheek, and she leans into it. "And I don't want you to be alone anymore," she adds, delivering the knock out punch as she preys on his greatest fear. It's a master class in manipulation.

"Deal," Klaus says, unable to tear his eyes away from her and the long sought after companionship he thinks she's offering him.

Before he can figure out her ruse and change his mind, I run to Jeremy's side, clutching Elena's hand briefly and whispering "Plan B" in her ear. I quickly un-dagger Jeremy, slip the daggers into my waistband, hoist him over my shoulder and bolt for the crypt, grabbing Bonnie along the way. Once inside, I slump the two of them together against the wall, shove the Gilbert ring back on Jeremy's finger, slap him once to keep him conscious (not for being an idiot or anything) and tie a tourniquet around each of his bleeding arms.

Racing back out of the crypt doors, I don't get two steps before Katherine seizes me by the throat and slams me into place next to Stefan. "Her idea," I mouth in reply to their questioning looks.

"Drink up, Elena," Klaus says, bringing our attention back to the rest of the ritual. Klaus roughly hauls Elena up by the arm so that she can drink from the goblet. Stefan and I struggle and shout against Katherine's hold, continuing to play our roles, but I have to look away when Klaus drinks from Elena. Been there, done that, don't need to see it again, even if I know she'll definitely come back this time.

The sickening sound of Klaus snapping her neck followed by her lifeless body hitting the ground forces my eyes open again. I watch as Klaus reaches for Caroline, drawing her into a passionate kiss. Wrapping an arm around his neck, Caroline returns his kiss, and for a moment I begin to doubt the wisdom of Plan B. But then her free hand flashes behind her back, withdrawing the stake, and she jams it between them, plunging it into his chest.

"You were right. I will never forgive you," she declares defiantly, and the look of utter betrayal on Klaus' face is priceless. MasterCard should make a commercial.

She pushes Klaus away just before the flames erupt, dragging Elena out of the way with her. When Katherine releases us, we rush over to them, and without giving my brother a second thought, I drop to the ground and pull Elena's still unconscious body into my arms.

Katherine slow claps as she lurks behind us. "Well played all, especially you, Caroline. And here I thought I was the best actress. Always knew I was doing you a favor when I killed you."

Stefan is on her before she can blink, trapping her by the throat against a gravestone. "Thank you for your assistance, Katherine," he grits out between clenched teeth. "Now get the hell out of here."

"No goodbye kiss?" she pouts at him. "Just in case that whole severing spell didn't work."

She's persistent that one. One hundred and fifty years and she's still got a one-track mind – Stefan, Stefan, Stefan. But he's not having any of it tonight, and I have to admit I'm a little proud of my baby bro for standing up to the she-devil. He shoves her aside and turns his attention back to Caroline. Katherine huffs, squares her shoulders and haughtily stalks away.

"Damon?" Elena mumbles, coming to in my arms, and it's the sweetest sound I've heard since this whole disastrous evening began. Caroline and Stefan knell beside us.

"Welcome back," I say, gently pushing the hair from her face as she opens her eyes. "It's all over."

She closes her eyes again briefly before opening them wide. "Jeremy? Bonnie?" she panics, as the events preceding her latest "death" coming rush back.

"They're fine," Caroline answers.

Elena turns her head to the side and notices Caroline there for the first time. She lunges out of my arms and into those of her best friend, hugging her fiercely and repeating "Thank you" over and over as relieved tears stream down her face. Stefan's rubbing her back, trying to calm her down, and I've had about as much of this love fest as I can take. I stand and walk back over to the still burning corpse of our nemesis. This time the flames are bright, yellow and hot, like the ones that consumed Mikael. They don't have the slightly off color tint of the flames Bonnie had spelled when Ric "killed" Klaus. Regardless, I'm going to stand here until there's nothing left but ashes. I need to be sure the bastard is well and truly dead this time. I just pray that we didn't also sentence ourselves to the same fate.

Pulling down the sleeve of my leather jacket to cover my hand, I reach into the fire and extract the stake.

"What are you going to do with that now?" Stefan asks, coming to stand beside me.

"Try and do the honorable thing, for once," I answer, tucking it into my jacket.

"Not just once, brother," he says, gripping my shoulder. "Let's get out of here. Elena needs blood, and Jeremy and Bonnie need to be checked out."

I nod and hand him my car keys. "Get them back to Elena's house. I'll call Meredith and tell her to meet you there."

"You're not coming with us?" Elena asks, suddenly right next to me with a death grip on my arm. From the edge in her voice and the tears in her wide brown eyes, I can tell she's close to hysterical again, no doubt worrying about loose ends and such. Stefan clears his throat awkwardly, mumbling something about helping Caroline with Jeremy and Bonnie, and heads toward the crypt, leaving us alone by the fire.

"I need to take care of something first," I explain, prying Elena's hand from my arm before her nails rip a hole through the leather. "Part of the deal I made for Klaus' death."

"I'll come with you," she offers, resolve beating back the anxiety in her eyes. I know this is not the time, that circumstances are dire, serious and possibly deadly, but I can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth. I pull her into my arms and bury my inappropriately happy face in her hair, hiding the satisfaction I feel at knowing she's making a different choice this time. Her arms wrap around my waist, drawing me closer, as she nuzzles her cheek against my chest.

"Plan B turned out all right," she says after a few minutes of contented silence.

"Yep, Blondie deserves an Oscar for that performance."

She chuckles a little before turning serious again. "Do you think the severing spell worked?"

"We'll know soon enough." She shudders in response, so I hug her tighter. "I'm sure everything will be fine, Elena."

That little voice in the back of my head, the one that sounds suspiciously like her, pipes up and reminds me to be the better man and send her home with her friends and family, but I tell it to shut the fuck up so I can enjoy this. I might not get another chance.

"Elena?" Caroline calls less than a minute later from behind us, where she's supporting a wobbly Bonnie. I bite my tongue at the string of obscenities I'm about to let fly, because she's earned that much from me tonight.

"Dammit, can't you see we're having a moment?" I grumble instead, which elicits a real honest to goodness laugh from Elena.

"Sorry," Caroline replies, shrugging her unencumbered shoulder sheepishly, and yet she's clearly determined to leave with Elena in tow. Stefan is a few yards away, already headed toward the parking lot with Jeremy stumbling beside him.

We reluctantly disentangle ourselves, except for my hand, which Elena still has locked in a vice grip. "Go, Elena," I tell her, leaving no room for argument. "I'll be right behind you."

"Don't be long," she whispers, softly kissing the back of my hand. I simply nod, still too stunned by the affectionate gesture. She squeezes my hand one last time before finally letting it go and leaving with Caroline and Bonnie.

"You did good tonight, Caroline," I call out after them, intentionally using her given name so she understands I truly mean it.

"I know," she replies smugly over her shoulder. "Make sure he's really dead this time, okay?"

"Don't worry. Won't make that mistake again," I answer, giving them one last glance before turning back to the dwindling flames. Taking out the stake again, I flip it in the air a few times before pulling out my cell phone. I find the number I'm looking for and send a quick text.

_**Meet me at the Boarding House in ten.**_

A couple minutes later my phone trills, alerting me to the reply.

_**On my way**_.

I kick apart the pile of ashes formerly known as Klaus, stomping out any remaining embers with my boot, and then hightail it out of there, speeding across town for home.

Fifty minutes and counting.

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_**Thanks for reading! Pretty please hit review and let me know what you think so far. **_


	4. Goodbyes

**The Last Hour**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**A/N:** I can't apologize enough for the long delay in updating this story or thank you readers enough for sticking with me to see how this adventure plays out. Rest assured, it's all outlined now and I'm aiming to have it wrapped up before TVD S4 begins.

_Major love and special thanks go to **ElvishGrrl (/u/3495844/)** for working through this story with me and for her invaluable beta assistance. Kudos and gratitude are likewise due to **Deleroux (u/4176829/)** for pre-reading and his insightful comments and suggestions. Both are fantastic authors with current WIPs (Bumps and Gleaming the Cube, respectively) that you should definitely read and review._

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from The Vampire Diaries are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

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_**Chapter 4 - Goodbyes**_

My knee bounces constantly, my one hand clutches repeatedly around the empty blood bag in my lap while the other taps incessantly against the armrest, and I'm fidgeting in my seat like a sugar-crazed five year-old on a road trip. My mind tells me to stay in this car, to make sure my brother and best friend, who are slumped against each other in the backseat, bloodied and semi-conscious, get home safely. But my heart is screaming at me to flee from these confines and run as fast as I can in the opposite direction, toward a different choice, and my restless body is on edge, keen to follow the latter instinct.

Stefan's phone rings and I still immediately, turning my head toward him, anxious to know who is on the other end of the line. I silently pray that it's Damon, calling with nothing but good news and a reassurance that everything is fine, that he's on his way; and if not that, then at least some clue as to this other task he had to take care of before meeting us at the house.

While I hope the severing spell worked, I'm not taking any chances this time. No ifs, no maybes. I won't let him die alone – not again. The last time still haunts my soul, sits in the pit of my stomach, nags at the back of my mind, reminding me of my most selfish act, committed at the expense of one of the most selfless men I've ever known. He has made sure, time and again, that no one dies alone – not Rose, not Ric – always right there when the grim reaper comes knocking, staring it in the face, torturing himself to ease their pain, and yet I was so caught up in what I needed, or what I thought I needed, that I was too short-sighted, too afraid, to show him the same kindness in return. I won't let him suffer that fate again, especially when it's both our lives on the line.

"Meredith, I take it you heard from Damon." Stefan's voice snaps me from my inner rant.

"He called a couple minutes ago," she replies. "He said to meet you at Elena's house and that Bonnie and Jeremy needed medical attention. What happened, Stefan?"

"Klaus happened, but this time we won," he answers with a prideful smile. He turns to me, expecting a smile in return, but my wide-eyed panicked stare wipes the grin from his face. Scrunching his forehead, he turns his attention back to Meredith, who was asking about Bonnie and Jeremy's injuries. "They're fading in and out of consciousness. I think they'll be fine, but I'm not a doctor. Did Damon say how long he'd be?"

"He said he had to swing by the Boarding House. He didn't say how long it would take. Why?" she asks, concern apparent in her voice.

I know they're just friends, that she occasionally occupies Ric's barstool at the Grill, and I'm thankful for the friendship she's shown Damon these past few months, but I can't help the pang of jealousy that momentarily consumes me. It's the second time tonight, coming on the heels of the rage, possessiveness and guilt that nearly overtook me when I saw Damon with Rebekah at the prom. Along with everything else that's amplified with my transition, the green-eyed monster is prone to Hulk-mode at the slightest provocation, and it's the worst, and truthfully always was, when he's involved.

"It's nothing," Stefan says, and it's so far from nothing that I want to scream. "We'll be there in five," he finishes, hanging up the phone.

He looks over at me, meeting my furious glare, and holds up a hand to stall the onslaught of daggers that are surely shooting from my eyes. I'm just about to let loose and tear into him when a voice from the backseat startles us both.

"Stop the car, Stefan," Jeremy mumbles feebly. I twist in my seat and see him struggling to push himself up, shrugging off Caroline's efforts to keep him still.

"We need to get you two to the house, Jeremy," Stefan brushes him off. "Meredith is waiting for us there."

I lock eyes with my brother for a split second, understanding, sympathy and determination, along with that overprotective brotherly look that he ironically wears more often since I became a vampire, flit across his face. It's as if something has suddenly clicked into place in that rapidly maturing brain of his.

"I heard," he counters, a hard edge strengthening his voice, as he catches Stefan's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Stop the car," he repeats, and his tone is eerily similar to Damon's, leaving no room for argument.

Stefan holds his eyes for a moment longer and then reluctantly pulls the car off onto the shoulder. "What's going on?" he asks, turning in his seat to face him.

"I need a minute alone with my sister," he answers, adding a "please" for manners sake only. His tone makes it clear there is no other option.

Caroline and Stefan both look to me, and I nod impatiently, not wanting to waste another second of our possibly finite time arguing. Growling under this breath, Stefan pushes open the door with this foot, climbs out and slams the door shut behind him. I cringe at the groan the car door makes, Damon's voice chastising his lack of respect for the Camaro in my head.

"Do you want me to take Bonnie too?" Caroline asks, looking past Jeremy to our other best friend tucked against his side.

"Nah, she's out still," he says more gently. Caroline nods, catching my eye one last time before swinging the back door open and stepping out onto the deserted road.

"What's going on, Jer?" I ask, reaching through the front seats to put a hand on his knee.

He looks down for a second, covering my hand with his own. "He doesn't deserve to die alone, Elena."

My eyes snap up from our joined hands to meet his serious stare and my jaw might as well be on the floor. How on earth did he know what I was thinking just moments ago?

"Rose might have said something," he adds, answering my wordless shock, squeezing my hand. "Alaric too."

My eyes automatically dart around the interior of the car even though I know I can't see the ghosts. I really shouldn't be surprised that they're here. I had suspected that Alaric was never far from Jeremy or Damon, but I'm surprised that Rose is here, too. Apparently, I pulled hard enough, and given our current circumstances and my recent train of thought, they must have been pushing back mighty hard as well.

"Jeremy, I need to make sure you and Bonnie-" I start, my mind making one last ditch effort to overrule my heart.

"We'll be fine," he interrupts. "Damon made sure of that. He always does, despite all our efforts to fuck things up."

"Go to him, Elena," Bonnie murmurs from under his arm, and Jeremy and I are both shocked to find her awake, staring at me with what looks like an apology in her somber green eyes. "You might not have another chance."

Her unexpected blessing is the final shot in the raging war between my heart and my head. "Thank you," I tell her, my eyes brimming with tears of relief, as I turn my hand over in Jeremy's to give it one final squeeze. Before I can second-guess myself any longer, I reach for the door only to have it pulled open from the outside.

As I step out of the car, an equally teary-eyed Caroline pulls me into a crushing hug.

"I assume you heard every word of that," I whisper into her hair, hugging her back fiercely as tears finally escape down my cheeks. She nods spastically, what's left of her wilted blonde curls bouncing and tickling my fingers on her back.

"I may have been wrong about that whole epic love thing," she admits with a watery laugh. Leaning back slightly, she takes my face in her hands and smiles. "Tell him I said thank you for all those times he saved the day and that I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner."

"Like he's gonna believe you said that," I reply, half laughing and half crying myself, elated by the acceptance and encouragement I see in her face and hear in her words. "Make sure they get back safely, okay?"

"Yes ma'am," Caroline assures me, brushing the tears from my checks. After giving me another hug, she slips back into the car and shuts the door behind her.

Wiping my eyes clean, I take a deep breath, steeling myself, before walking over to Stefan, who is a pacing with his head bowed and his hands in his pockets.

Standing in front of him, I lift my hand to his cheek to bring his eyes level with mine. "Stefan-"

"Just don't, Elena," he cuts me off, shaking my hand from his face and turning away to resume his pacing. "I knew this was coming. Hell, in retrospect, I'm surprised you even told Matt to turn the truck around that night."

"You were what I needed, then."

"And now?" he demands, rounding on me.

"He needs me. I can't let him die alone, not again."

"Don't kid yourself, Elena," he scoffs, resignation lacing his voice and weighing down his shoulders. "You need him just as much as he needs you."

"I do," I answer quietly, simply.

There's no use denying it any longer. Some part of me has always needed Damon, wanted him, loved him, and that part has grown exponentially since I transitioned, and not just because of my heightened emotions. He's the only one who accepts all of me – the misplaced vitriol, the rampant martyrdom, the wildly erratic overly sensitive vampire, and he loves me unconditionally all the same. He loves me like no one else has or ever could. And while my human-self may not have been prepared for that sort of love, or even recognized it for what it was, Stefan is right, I need it now. But even more insistent is the urge to return that unconditional love. Elena 2.0 can take it now, bumps and all, needs it to operate and evolve, and it is such a liberating realization that I can't help the smile that spreads across my face.

"I don't need to be protected anymore," I say, lifting my eyes back to Stefan's. "I need to live, even if it's only for another thirty minutes."

"Then go," he replies, holding my gaze a moment longer, before hanging his head and resting his chin against this chest again.

I step forward, standing on my tiptoes, to take his face in my hands and place a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Thank you," I whisper, because while I may not be in love with him any longer, I will always love him. He is part of my family now, and I would not be the woman, the vampire, I am today without him.

And then I'm gone, running at full-out vamp-speed toward the Boarding House, letting my heart finally lead the way.

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**I hope this installment was worth the wait. Hit review and let me know. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Confessions

**The Last Hour**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**A/N:** I can't thank you all enough for the reviews, favorites and alerts on this story; it's really been a delight to read your thoughts and gauge your interest as this story has gone along.

_Special thanks are in order for Elvishgrrl (/u/3495844/) for her tireless beta efforts on these later chapters and her sympathetic ear when my muse was off in la-la-land. Her amazing story Bumps recently concluded in spectacular fashion! Likewise, I very much appreciate the assistance of Deleroux (/u/4176829/), especially when it comes to getting the snarky Damon voice just right. Be sure to catch more of his Damon-mastery in his ongoing story, Gleaming the Cube._

Now, without further ado, Damon brings us home… after some legal mumbo jumbo…

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from The Vampire Diaries are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

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**_Chapter 5 – Confessions_**

It can't have taken me more than ten minutes to get back to the Boarding House from the graveyard, but as I slow my pace and climb the back porch steps, I see the glow of a fire already burning in the den, and a second later, that too-perfectly dressed, ramrod-straight, stick-up-his-ass Original passes by the windows. I shouldn't be surprised that he beat me here; he is older and faster. But still, did he have to make himself at home like he fucking owns the place?

I don't say a word as I enter, don't even throw a glance his way. My sights are set on something else first. I toss my leather jacket on the back of a chair, grab a crystal tumbler and head straight for the liquor cabinet. The one I'm looking for is tucked way in the back, hidden in the shadows behind other lesser bottles. This one's reserved for "special occasions." When I first lost her, after snapping her brother's neck in a rage-fueled moment of impulse. Before my almost-death from a wolf-bite and after her almost-death the night Stefan threatened to drive her off of Wickery Bridge. After her actual death the night Rebekah ran her and the quarterback off that same cursed bridge. And now, seeing as how the grim reaper may be knocking at both our doors within the next half hour, it only seems fitting to revisit this old friend tonight.

As the smooth sting of the single-barrel twenty-three-year-aged bourbon deliciously coats my tongue and fills my nostrils with hints of spice, caramel and oak, my mind drifts back to the memory of Elena in that graveyard – the feel of her arms wrapped tightly around my waist and her nose buried in my chest, the familiar smell of her hair, tinged slightly with smoke, as I rested my chin against the crown of her head, and the look of certainty in her wide brown eyes and the tone of determination in her voice when she offered to come with me. If it's the last memory I have of her, it's a good one to go out on. I can live, or rather die, with that.

"Do you have it?" he finally speaks up.

I take another swig of bourbon before turning to meet the glare of Mr. Old School Vampire. He's taken a seat in the high-back chair by the fire, legs crossed, with one hand tapping against his knee and the other swirling a glass of what smells like my best highland scotch.

"No, Elijah, I left the only weapon that can kill all of us in the middle of the graveyard in a pile of your hybrid brother's ashes where any Tom, Dick or Hunter can find it," I reply sarcastically, rolling my eyes for added effect, because I know it will annoy him.

"Damon-," he starts, stern and condescending; his Tuesday voice.

"God, man, lighten up. It's _my_ entire bloodline that could be dying soon, not yours. We'll be out of your perfectly-coiffed hair for good. No more of those pesky Mystic Falls vampires causing you trouble. You should be celebrating."

"A few of your line are worth saving," he says, this time more softly, before taking another sip of his scotch. I'm sure I know to whom he is referring. And that very short list does not include me.

I nod, acknowledging our common plight when it comes to certain brown-haired, doe-eyed doppelgangers, before downing the rest of my drink and setting the glass and bottle on the bar table. Retrieving my jacket from the chair, I withdraw the soot-covered stake and pitch it it to him. He snags it out of the air with his free hand, snaps it in half and, without a second thought, tosses the pieces into the fire.

"Seriously?" I exclaim, giving him my best _what-the-fuck_ face. I watch as it incinerates, apparently not impervious to the flames of an ordinary, non-supernatural fire.

"What? You expected me not to destroy it and just wait for some trouble-making vampire or Hunter to get their hands on it again?"

I let slip a resigned grunt. The Original has a point, though I'll be damned if I tell him that.

"And the daggers?" he says, holding his hand out expectantly.

They've been digging a groove into my back ever since I pulled them out of Jeremy's arms and tucked them into my waistband, but that pain isn't nearly enough to risk Elijah knowing their whereabouts.

"Nah-ah-ah," I say, wagging a finger and eyebrow at him. "I believe the terms of our deal were the blood of you and your remaining siblings for the last remaining white oak stake."

"For _all_ the weapons that can kill us," he corrects, standing and straightening his tie.

"And those daggers don't kill you," I counter, pouring myself another glass of bourbon. "Just temporarily incapacitate you. Besides," I add, shrugging as I take another gulp, "you still have two. I'm keeping the other two as an insurance policy."

"Against what?"

"In case Rebekah or Kol ever threatens my family again," I answer, coming to stand directly in front of him and staring him down so he understands I am deadly serious. "I don't think _you_ would do anything stupid, but if either of your psycho siblings so much as lays a hand on any of them, including the humans, I won't hesitate to put those daggers to good use and then I'll dump their bodies in the Atlantic. You got that?"

He remains silent, likely considering the foolishness of my threats against any Original, but such are the delusions of a possibly dead-man. His eyes flick toward the ceiling for a split second and then back to mine.

"Understood," he finally concedes, raising his glass. I clink my tumbler against his, agreeing to this fragile détente we've negotiated, and then both of us finish our drinks.

Holding out my hand, I take his empty glass and set it on the bar table with mine. "Always a pleasure, Elijah. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

When I look back up, he's already in the hallway, leaning against the entry arch with his arms crossed over this chest, and I know that stance. Here comes the lecture, in three, two, one -

"You know, when I considered you and Stefan, I always saw Klaus and myself. The best of brothers torn apart by our love for a woman. You were crazy and impulsive, like Klaus, and I was sure you would destroy Elena, just like Klaus destroyed Katerina."

"Get to the point, Elijah," I sigh in frustration, debating whether or not to pour another drink. I do not need a reminder of my failures right now, much less an analysis of how I compare to that demon-spawn he called 'brother.'

"Maybe I was wrong," he continues, and my eyebrows involuntarily twitch. "Everything you've done tonight is to protect her and her family. That's all you've ever done, even if some of your efforts were… misguided."

"Oh stop, I'm getting all misty-eyed," I sneer, brushing off his backhanded compliment.

"You're an honorable man, Damon," he says, straightening up and heading for the door, before turning around for his parting shot. "If you make it through tonight, you'd be wise not to waste the second chance. And if you hurt her, I will make sure your death is incredibly painful. _You got that?"_

"Yeah, I got it." Because I _really _needed to hear it from him, as if I don't already remind myself daily. When I look back up, he's already gone.

Another drink is definitely in order. And a change out of my soot-covered clothes. After refilling my glass, I head up the stairs, stopping briefly to turn on the stereo. Johnny Cash immediately fills the darkness and the Man in Black seems as good a choice as any right now.

I know I should be out the door already, racing to Elena's house, and while there's nothing more I would rather do than spend my last twenty minutes on this Earth in her arms, getting to know every single inch of her, inside and out, before it's too late, I don't do group-kumbayah-we're-all-gonna-be-fine-slash-we're–all-gonna-die-pity-parties. And she needs to be with her family more than I need to be with her.

Or so I thought.

Freezing mid-step over the threshold of my room, I suddenly understand Elijah's momentary glance toward the ceiling. How did I miss the sound of her approach, of her climbing up the oak tree, of her slipping in through my bedroom window? How much of my conversation with Elijah did she hear?

And Stefan was right. As I look at Elena – standing in the entryway of my bathroom in her tattered blue prom dress, a few leaves in her now loose hair, bare feet covered in mud, and eyes desperate and full of unshed tears – I'm reminded of her tragic track record when it comes to school dances.

"Why didn't you go to the house?" she asks.

"Why?" I scoff, stepping the rest of the way into my room. "I'll pass on spending what are possibly the last minutes of my existence with people who couldn't care less."

"Damon, that's not true," she replies, approaching with measured steps. "Stefan cares. I ca-"

"Elena, just stop," I interrupt, waving her off. It's that fucking phrase again – the one at the very top of my least favorite phrases list. "I can't hear this right now."

Swallowing the rest of my drink, I set the empty glass on the bedside table before collapsing into the leather chair, bracing my elbows on my knees and holding my head in my hands, exhaustion weighing down my eyelids. There's a whoosh of air and when I open my eyes, I'm looking down at her muddy toes. It makes me grin a little, and when her fingers begin to gently thread through my hair, the tension in my body instantly melts away, and I can't help but lean forward, resting my forehead against her silk-covered stomach.

"Elena, you should be with your family," I mumble, shaking my head, still trying to convince her, convince myself, that she should be anywhere else but here with me. All the while my arms betray my words, snaking around her waist and pulling her closer to me.

"No, I should be here. I'm not leaving you alone. I'm not letting you go this time."

"Why?" I ask, leaning back to look up at her, and I'm startled by the contrast that is her - the fierce resolve in her voice, the tears that are streaking down her face and the ear to ear smile that threatens to break her face in two.

I reach a hand up to wipe away the tears on her cheek, and she wraps her own lightly around my wrist, leaning into my palm and letting her eyes slip shut. And then she's hiking up the layers of silk and taffeta comprising what's left of her skirt, bringing a knee down on either side of my thighs as she straddles my lap. Taking my face in both of her hands, she forces me to meet those deep brown eyes of hers, full of so much emotion.

"Because it's right, right now. Because you make me glad to be a living dead person. Because you never leave me. Because you consume me."

"Elena-," I start, but the words are caught in the back of my throat, or rather in my chest, somewhere in the vicinity of my heart. This beautiful, infuriating, amazing, frustrating, wonderful, beguiling girl who I met on a deserted road almost two years ago – who enchanted me from that very instant – has rendered me speechless, with my own words no less. How ironic is that?

Then she delivers the coup de grâce.

"Because I love you, Damon," she declares, loud and clear.

And I'm going under, floored by the words I'd only ever hoped, and never honestly thought, I'd hear from anyone, especially not her. And when she leans forward to capture my lips in a searing kiss, her arms wrapping around my neck, one hand clutching my shoulders and the other weaving through my hair, holding me to her, there's no doubting the truth of her words. So I give in, sliding one hand to her lower back, crushing her tightly against me, and plunging the other into her hair, as I kiss her back with every ounce of love and devotion that has been pent up inside of me for far too long, scraping and clawing for the opportunity to get out, to show her that all-consuming love works both ways.

When I feel the growl emanate from the back of her throat before I hear it, it's my turn to break out into a broad smile, unintentionally breaking our kiss. She pulls back, and her face is the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. Her eyes are dark with lust, her cheeks flushed bright pink, her lips plump and red, turned up in a curious grin, and her hair is a wild mess. She brings her hands up to my face again, and it's then that I first notice my own tears, as she wipes them away with her thumbs.

Why the fuck did we wait so long?

As if she's reading my mind, she leans her forehead against mine, her breath mingling with my own, as she whispers, "Damon, I don't want to die not knowing what _we_ feel like."

"I suppose it is technically tomorrow by now, even if we only have ten minutes of it left," I mumble against her lips.

"Better make it fast," she teases, nipping at my bottom lip.

"Oh, I don't think that's going to be a problem," I answer, before our mouths crash together again, desperation and need taking control. I rip the front of her dress open and run my fingers across her heated flesh, and when she gasps at the contact, I plunge my tongue into her mouth, tangling with hers and both of us moan at the contact. Her hips grind down and mine up, and it's clear neither of us is long for this world, be it from pleasure or the powers that be, but hopefully not the latter without the former first. Surely, fate would not be so cruel as to deny us at least one time together.

But just in case, I have to tell her, one last time, while we're both conscious, both here, both in the same goddamn place for once, finally. With every last ounce of willpower I have left in me, I tear myself from her delectable mouth and wait for her soulful eyes to flutter open and lock onto mine.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

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**_Thanks again for your reviews, notes and support._**


	6. Tomorrow

**The Last Hour**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**A/N:** What's this?! A wild update on a story that was supposedly completed?! What can I say … all the talk about the upcoming Prom episode inspired me to come back to this story, which started at Prom, and now add an epilogue. As a reminder, I wrote this last summer, so it's canon only up through 3X22. No sire bond, no Silas, no off-switch – just some lemony kinks in this epilogue for your reading pleasure ;)

_My sincere gratitude and appreciation to Sandra (dutchtreat), Katie (shipperjunkie) and Chelley (chellethebelle) for their beta and pre-reading support._

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from The Vampire Diaries are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

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_**Epilogue - Tomorrow**_

Waking slowly the next morning, I can't help but miss the warmth of Damon's skin against mine. So I shift slightly in search of him and find nothing but an empty bed.

My eyes snap open and I immediately curse my instincts, squinting against the morning light that floods the room. Turning over to run a hand across his side of the bed, I find it cool to the touch, and the panic that was already starting to build suddenly threatens to consume me.

_Was it a dream? Am I dead? Is he dead? What if it was all a lie – that I wasn't actually sired by his blood – and now they're all dead and I'm left here alone?_

I'm on my feet, my hand around the doorknob, before my senses finally catch up with my terrified heart.

_Blood_.

Stopping dead in my tracks, I inhale deeply and feel the veins beneath my eyes pop up and my fangs extend. I glance over my shoulder and see a tumbler of blood on the bedside table. If its smell is any indication, it's still warm and my favorite type, same as his.

And that's when I hear it.

_Music._

And not just any music. My heart starts to beat again, swelling at the familiar tune wafting up from the parlor below.

Damon is playing the piano. He's here. We're both still here.

Cradling the glass of blood carefully to my chest, I crawl back into his bed and prop myself up against the headboard. I take a drink while I listen to him play, and then I smile as every muscle in my body relaxes at the sound.

It's a Celtic song he picked up from an Irish witch friend of his. I recall how, in those first few weeks after my transition, I'd wake up in the middle of the night, full of pent-up newbie vampire energy – rage, lust, hunger. I'd sneak out of Stefan's room and pace the hallways until Damon would come down the other set of stairs. He'd take me silently by the hand, tuck me into the parlor couch with a blanket and a glass of blood, and then he'd play. It was the only thing that could calm me down, this song better than all the rest.

He knew what I needed then, just as he knows what I need now.

He always knows what I need.

Setting my now empty glass on the table, I slide further down into the bed and let my eyes slip shut again. I hug his pillow to me and bury my nose in his scent that still lingers there, sighing contentedly as memories of the previous night come rushing back.

* * *

After our whispered confessions of love, he'd pushed the remains of my dress to the floor, and then deftly, with a growl and a flick of his wrists, rid me of the black scraps of lace that were hiding the rest of me from him. The urgency of the moment had not been lost on me either. I'd ripped apart his shirt, scattering buttons across the hardwood floor, and raked my nails down his uncovered chest.

My hands had faltered slightly when he'd squeezed my breasts, rolling my hardened nipples against his palms, eliciting a wanton moan. I'd drawn an answering hiss from him once I'd gotten past his belt and zipper, freeing his straining erection. Using my one hand to position him and the other to grab the top of the leather chair behind his head, I'd lifted myself up on my knees and then slid slowly down the length of him, finally joining us together.

We'd stilled for a moment, eyes locked and breaths held. Taking it all in. And then I saw the desperation flash in his eyes, no doubt mentally calculating how few minutes we had left. Our mouths had crashed together then, lips, tongues and fangs battling for dominance, while our hips ground frantically against each other. At the brink of release, I'd torn my mouth from his, nuzzling into the hand that was cradling my cheek before sinking my fangs into his palm. Damon's hands had comforted, saved, and loved me like no other, holding me together when my whole world fell apart time and again. I'd needed to taste his very essence from that part of him that I cherished most.

Bucking his hips wildly, he'd thrown his head back against the chair, moaning my name. I'd fisted a hand in his hair, bringing his face to my neck, and a second later, I'd felt the sting of his fangs pierce my skin, completing the connection I craved and sending us both surging into oblivion.

Time stopped in that instant – my world, my heart, my life condensed into a perfect moment of soul-crushing ecstasy – and I'd thought for a second that it was in fact the end.

But then, as I'd come down from that blissful high, I'd heard our hearts beating in sync and time began to tick again. We'd stayed like that for a while. His arms wrapped tightly around me, his hands tracing patterns on my back, and mine draped over his shoulders, my hands running through his hair, as he peppered my throat, my collarbone, and my breasts with kisses.

Some time later, he'd reached a hand up behind my neck, tugged my ear down to his lips and whispered, "I think it's been longer than an hour, give or take a few."

His smile had been like nothing I'd ever seen before on his handsome face. There was no smirk, no joking, no artifice at all behind it – only pure, unadulterated happiness. I'd captured his lips in a passionate kiss, overwhelmed with my own contentment, and felt him harden again inside me.

After moving us from the chair to the bed, we'd made love a second and third time, slowly, worshipfully, savoring each other, as we were reasonably certain that death had passed us over. He'd eventually fallen asleep on his stomach, his face turned toward me, and I'd snuggled up to him, slinging a leg over his and an arm across his shoulders, threading my fingers through his hair.

I'd gazed at him long after he'd drifted off, just in case death claimed us before the morning after all.

* * *

I crawl out of bed and snag his dress shirt from the floor. Slipping it on, I roll up the sleeves and fasten what's left of the buttons on my way down the stairs. I stand in the parlor entryway for a few minutes, admiring his bare, sculpted back as his fingers seem to effortlessly coast across the keys. He doesn't miss a note when I cross the room and lower myself next to him, straddling the piano bench and running my hand along his jean-clad thigh.

He finishes the song, resting his fingers on the keys for a moment before turning to me with that same serene smile from last night.

"Good morning," he says, tenderly caressing my cheek and guiding me to his lips. We linger there, our mouths moving languidly against each other's, tasting and enjoying this newfound life.

"The world didn't end," I grin against his lips.

"No it didn't." He leans back, smiling as he gives me the once over. "I'm glad too, otherwise I would never have gotten to see you in my shirt."

"Fantasy of yours, Damon?" I ask, smirking as I scoot closer. I slip one hand down his back and into the waistband of his jeans, while the other inches further up his thigh toward the growing bulge beneath his fly.

"You could say that," he chuckles, toying with one of the three buttons that are barely keeping said shirt closed. His eyes stray to my cleavage peeking out from underneath it.

"You know," I start, tilting forward so my lips brush the outside of his ear, and my hand takes ahold of his erection, stroking it through his jeans. "Some of those nights when you used to play for me, I would sit on that couch and fantasize about you, me and this piano."

Turning his face slightly, he breathes his answer across my cheek, "Is that so, Elena?" He slowly runs his hand up my leg, hooking his fingers under my knee and hitching it over his own. "You know this is an antique, right? If last night is any indication, we'd probably break it."

I can hear the smirk in his voice, but it quickly morphs into a groan when he brings his hand the rest of the way up my inner thigh, beneath the hem of his shirt. His fingers find me bare and soaking wet for him, and I gasp, and grip his cock harder when he swipes his thumb across my throbbing, swollen clit.

"I have a better idea," he says.

In the blink of an eye, the shirt is ripped open and I'm laid bare before him on top of the piano, with my knees slung over his shoulders, his hands clutching my ass and his face buried between my legs. His tongue plunders, his teeth nip and his lips suck, as I writhe and arch my back off the cool lacquered wood, my hands gripping the rounded edges of the lid. He feels so good I have to remind myself the piano's an antique and I don't want to splinter it.

He holds down my pelvis with one hand and uses the other to slide two fingers inside me, curling the tips against my front wall. My hands fist in his hair as he flicks his tongue across my clit, the pace maddeningly, torturously slow. The only thought I have left is that the real thing is far better than any of my fantasies.

He works me into such a frenzy that I whine, embarrassingly loud, when he withdraws his fingers. But then I hear him unzip his fly and his jeans hit the floor. Dropping my legs and dragging me forward, my arms and hands clang against the keys as he slides me off the top of the piano and directly onto his cock. He sits back on the bench, and I wrap my legs around his waist as we begin to move together. I feel him swell inside me as I recline, arms outstretched to either end of the keyboard, my body fully open to him.

He holds me to him with one hand, his fingers digging into my hip as he guides me up and down his length. The other skates along my body, findings its home on my breast as he caresses and teases my rapidly hardening peak. His mouth isn't far behind. He first kisses the underside and then traces the aureole with his tongue before sucking my already hypersensitive nipple between his teeth.

I'm just about to cry out his name when he stills and slams a hand over my mouth. He pulls me upright and locks his eyes with mine, nodding toward the door. That's when I hear it too. The crunch of gravel, voices and then steps ascending the stairs out front.

My eyes go wide, and in a flash Damon has us up and moving, my legs still wrapped around his waist. Before I realize where he's going, we're in the basement, with my body pressed between his hot, sweaty one and the cold stone wall.

I hear the front door open and five distinct sets of footsteps enter the house – Stefan, Caroline, Bonnie, Jeremy, and even Matt. I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing they're all safe and alive. Then Caroline's voice calls out, "Wherever you two are in here, if you're naked, finish what you're doing and get dressed. We're celebrating."

Without thinking, I open my mouth to respond, but Damon places a finger over my lips and beats me to it.

"We're just getting some blood bags. We'll be up in a minute."

Holding my wrists against the wall above my head, I see his smirk and the devilish glint in his eye a split second before he drives back into me. His mouth on mine swallows the moans that he wrenches from me. Several powerful thrusts later, and we're raggedly, breathlessly toppling over that edge together again.

As we come down from our release it hits me, just how far we've come. From sitting across from each other here in this basement, in the dark, allies but barely friends, to being intimately wound together in a lovers' embrace.

"That's the day I realized I was in love with you," he whispers against my lips, correctly guessing my thoughts.

"And I think somewhere, in the back of my mind, from that night on, I knew you'd never leave me."

Releasing my wrists, he trails his fingers lightly down my arms, across my collarbone and then up my neck to cup my cheeks, his eyes boring into mine. "That's a promise I intend to keep."

He gives me another searing kiss, sealing his vow, but before we can get too carried away again, Caroline's amused shout echoes from above.

"That's an awfully long minute."

"You're annoying best friend wants to celebrate," he grumbles as we disentangle ourselves, but the smile on his face betrays his mock indignation.

"Maybe you should start locking your doors." I lean against the freezer as feeling begins to creep back into my wobbly legs. "She's prone to unexpected visits."

"I know," he sighs, rolling his eyes as he rummages through some nearby boxes of old clothes. He finds a pair of jeans for himself and hands me a t-shirt and athletic shorts.

Once we're dressed, he winds his arms around my waist. "Oh, I forgot," I say, looking up at him. "I was supposed to tell you that she said 'thanks' for saving her life."

"I don't believe it," he replies, playfully shaking his head.

"You should, Damon," I declare with absolute conviction, capturing his chin with my hand and bringing his eyes back to mine.

"Thank you," I breathe against his lips before kissing him softly.

"For keeping us all safe." Another kiss.

"For giving me a second chance." Another kiss.

"For never letting me go."

I let my last kiss linger as my fingers tunnel through his hair, unable to get enough of the silky feel I've been denied for too long.

He takes my hand in his and brings it up to his mouth, kissing the back of it as I had done his last night.

"Thank _you_," he says, "For deciding I was worth saving."

There's a peculiar look in his eyes, like those words mean more to him than I will ever know, like he's been waiting for the perfect time to say them to me. And I'm floored once more by how much I love this man.

"You're welcome," I answer, still a little awe-struck by my emotions.

He tenderly pecks my cheek before leaning back slightly and capturing my eyes. When he brings our lips together, his kiss is almost hesitant at first, but grows more insistent, more intense, as his fingers tangle in my hair and his thumb caresses my cheek. I feel totally and completely consumed, all my love for him reflected right back at me, pouring off of him in waves and blanketing us both.

"Ahem," someone clears her throat. Without looking, I know Caroline is standing at the bottom of the basement stairs behind us.

"We're coming, we're coming," Damon huffs, waving her off dismissively, as he nips at my bottom lip.

"I bet you were," she throws over her shoulder as she turns back up the stairs.

Neither of us are able to contain our laughter as we rest our foreheads against each other's, eyes locked a moment longer.

"I love you," we whisper together, before heading upstairs, hand in hand, to celebrate today and our many tomorrows to follow.

**THE END.**

* * *

For real this time ;) Hope you enjoyed! Hit review and let me know what you thought...


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